The First Moment
by LaughableBlackStorm
Summary: The first time Murphy saw an American penny, he had just turned eleven years old.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything Boondock Saints related.

**Author's Note:** Just a small moment from the boys' childhood. Happy reading!

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**The First Moment  
by LaughableBlackStorm**

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The first time Murphy saw an American penny, he had just turned eleven years old. He had found a handful of coins under Ma's mattress, where he had been searching for his confiscated baseball, which she had taken from him the day before when he'd rolled it under Connor's foot in a fit of tantrum.

The money was kept in a small plastic bag and he jingled it smugly in his palm, though he knew in his heart that he would not be able to take any of it. He might pocket some coins while searching the rest of the room for his baseball, but before he left he would inevitably end up putting them back in the bag.

He knew little of American currency, but he recognized one of the quarters from the description one of his teachers had once given. He eyed the silver nickels and dimes, but what truly caught his attention were the smaller, copper pennies. Most were dull and faded, but there were two perfectly shiny ones, as though they were polished every night before bed. His ma was not the treasuring type, however, so that was unlikely, but it did not change the fact that these pennies, however virtually worthless they were in value, were beautiful.

The front door closed sharply and Ma's voice rang throughout the house, slightly unstable but otherwise sober. Hurriedly Murphy dropped the coins back into the bag, stashed them under the mattress, and ran back to his room where he lay on his narrow bed, on his stomach and no longer aggravated over his absent baseball.

He dozed off. It was a warm afternoon, in the middle of the summer, and through the open window insects chirped and birds swooped through the blue-grey sky. Connor was off somewhere without him, was his last thought before his eyes closed.

While he slept, the clock, which ran seventeen minutes slow, monitored the time he did not experience. He woke up abruptly for no reason, with his head resting against his folded arms. The temperature had cooled somewhat, though it was still humid. He rolled over onto his side. Small shadows had begun to play across the bedroom as the sun left them behind. He breathed slowly, feeling oddly comfortable.

A rustling sound outside caught his attention. Silently moving to the window, he peered out and down to where his brother was climbing the tree that stood too close to the side of their house. Though Murphy had given no indication of his presence, Connor glanced up at him in between the branches and grinned at him.

"Hang on," Murphy said, "I'm coming down."

Connor nodded and descended the branches he had just climbed, jumping the last few feet to the ground. He glanced around the backyard, his hands on his hips, thinking about something like he always did. The simple sound of Connor's silences could drive Murphy up the wall.

Murphy was seated on the windowsill, one leg on either side, and about to grab onto the first branch when he stopped and smiled to himself. "I forgot something," he said.

"Well, hurry up."

"Don't go anywhere!" Murphy called to him as he hopped back into the bedroom.

"Yeah," he heard as he jogged away. Back to their ma's bedroom he quietly went, listening to her making coffee and mumbling to herself downstairs. He pulled the bag of coins out from under the mattress and as he kneeled beside the bed, staring at the money, he took a moment to wonder why Ma had American change, before returning to his and Connor's open window.

"Where'd ya go?" Connor greeted him when Murphy's head poked back outside. His brother on the ground was frowning. "You know I don't like waiting for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Murphy muttered. He held up the bag. "Look at this!"

Connor moved closer to the side of the house, squinting. He pointed up. "Where did you get money, Murph?"

"It's Ma's."

"Are you— _Put that back_," he hissed. "She'll skin us alive, idiot!"

Murphy rolled his eyes and huffed. "I'm not _stealing_ it, _idiot_, I just wanna show you."

"I don't care what Ma has for change—"

"It's American!"

This shut Connor up. "Huh," he breathed out. "That's weird."

"I know. 'S what I said."

Abruptly Connor grabbed for the lowest branch and started hoisting himself up again in excitement. "Let me see it, Murph, what's it look like?"

"I— Jesus— Hold _on_, Con, I just said I was coming down—"

Connor huffed and jumped back down again. "Fine, come on then—" He cut himself off with a cry of surprise as two tiny copper coins were shot at him. With his arms protecting his face, he jumped backwards. "Murphy!"

"Heh heh."

Connor threw his arms into the air in fury. "What the hell was that, Murph!"

"Watch your mouth," Murphy said with a grin.

"Watch yours! I'll hit it! What was that for, you…" He trailed off, apparently unable to think of an appropriate insult.

Murphy frowned; Connor was actually angry with him. "It was just a joke," he said. "Con, relax."

"No! You're up high, you idiot, those coins could've sliced right through me!"

"I'm not that high up," Murphy scoffed. "It's our house, isn't it, can't be more than…" He glanced down in exaggeration, "…what, four feet off the ground?"

Connor gave him the finger and began walking away. "You're on the second story, Murph, it's more than _four feet_ off the ground—"

"I know, all right, I was kidding!" He began climbing down the tree, more out of restless frustration than a desire to be near his brother. "Calm down, Con, I'm sorry." He dropped to the ground higher than he normally did, and it hurt his ankles but he didn't let it show, and instead he took a moment to relish in his body's upset balance.

Connor glanced at him from beneath his eyelashes and came back. Swinging an arm around Murphy's shoulders he quietly said, " 'S all right, brother. Now, you should find those coins before Ma finds out you lost them."

"She won't miss them, they're hardly worth anything."

Nevertheless, Murphy began searching through the long grass, which desperately needed cutting.

"Maybe they mean something to her, though."

"Aye, probably, if she kept them."

They shared a look of shared curiosity. Ma never kept gifts or souvenirs; she either drank her gifts (for most of the family knew that whisky was her favourite present), or handed them off to her boys, who unfortunately could not find a use for an expensive pearl necklace except to mock-choke each other with it when the other's back was turned.

Murphy found one penny and Connor the other. After his brother had handed him his coin, Murphy stared at them in his palm for a minute in fascination, and then smirked. He glanced up. Connor's back was turned as he kicked at the grass with the toe of his shoe. As quickly as possible, before Connor sensed Murphy planning anything, he chucked one of the pennies straight at the back of his brother's head.

It was as if a switch had flipped; the starting bell at the races. Connor swung around with a growl and leaped at him without warning, though Murphy had anticipated it as soon as he'd taken a good look at those coins. As soon as Connor tensed for that millisecond after the penny binged against his (empty) skull, Murphy was already running. He heard his name yelled from behind him and he laughed loudly, running around the trees in their backyard. It wasn't a large property, but it was bigger than those directly in the middle of town; no matter how bare the rectangular area was, it always provided hours of entertainment for them.

Connor was at his heels, and though he threatened Murphy's life, his head, the coins, and everything else on God's green earth, they were both having too much fun to be truly upset with each other. Murphy swerved suddenly around Connor, wishing the move wasn't as predictable as it was (although Connor did stumble, which was priceless). After guffawing at his brother's ungraceful display, he turned his head to the front. He was heading straight for the low garden fence on the east side of their property.

He had planned to duck out to the left and hope Connor would hit the wall, or perhaps even flip over it. But when he felt Connor's fingers brush against his back, showing that his brother was gaining on him, Murphy made a split second decision and vaulted himself over the garden wall.

Connor didn't even break stride. Murphy sensed him fly over right after him, as though he had known Murphy's idea before he himself did. They jumped over their neighbour's garden wall as well into the next neighbour's yard, and Connor probably would have continued chasing Murphy for miles if, five seconds later, they were not both being chased _back_ over the garden walls by their neighbour's neighbour's massive dog.

Murphy was in hysterical laughter; he barely managed to climb over the fence into their backyard. The dog had not followed them out of its own property, but they had run as if it were constantly snapping at their feet. Both brothers panted heavily and smiled widely. When Murphy collapsed on top of the wall, only half over it, as an uncontrollable fit of giggles overtook him and left him gasping for air, Connor, laughing himself, grabbed the back of Murphy's shirt and pulled him over onto their piece of Ireland. They both landed on their backs on the long, soft grass, tears streaming down their faces in mirth.

"Connor! Murphy!" yelled their mother from the back door. Still gasping and laughing themselves silly, they looked up at her.

"Yeah, Ma?" they asked together, still holding onto each other's arms.

She narrowed her eyes at them. "Don't act all polite-like to me, you mischievous miscreants. _What_ were you doing on the fence?"

"Nothing, Ma," Murphy said.

"Right," she said sarcastically. "And I love yehs to death." She took a swig from her bottle.

The twins bore identical grins. "You do love us, Ma," Connor said.

"And we love you!" called Murphy.

Ma made a noise in the back of her throat and tossed a small, considerably friendly wave at them with her hand, before retreating into the house.

Murphy disentangled himself from his brother while bursting into a new round of laughter. Connor joined in, ruffling his hair. "She loves you best," he teased.

"Yeah, right. _Connor, my baby boy_—"

"Don't you start with that!" Connor lightly pushed him on the shoulder.

"_My dear Connie_—"

"Murphy, I swear."

"_My dearest Connie…_" He mimed taking a drink. "_How 'as yer day, my boy?_ And that's when…" He made a motion towards the ground, "…she passes out on the couch." He laughed again and rolled away from Connor's playful fist.

"You got the ending right," his brother admitted, "but she never calls me _Connie_. I would never let her!"

"Oh, like you control Ma! She can't even control herself!"

"Hey," Connor frowned, with his eyes still twinkling, "watch what you say about your mother."

"She's yours too, moron. Just as much as mine."

"Nah." Connor smiled smugly. "She likes me best, remember?"

In a flash, Murphy was after him.

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**The End.**

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_Thank you for reading!_


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